


Batting 1000

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, French Kissing, Humor, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Marijuana, Nerd Castiel, Pining Dean, Punk Dean, Requited Love, Shotgunning, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Underage Drug Use, Underage Kissing, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t bat for your team.”<br/>“Cas—”<br/>“I don’t even bat for my team.”<br/>“Cas—”<br/>“I barely have a batting average; I’m more of an outfielder, really—”<br/>“Cas,” Dean laughs, soothing the beautiful nerd. “I didn’t take you here to give you a quickie.”</p><p>Or the one where Dean is hopelessly in love with the the hot and hopelessly clueless nerd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batting 1000

 

“I don’t bat for your team.”

“Cas—”

“I don’t even bat for _my_ team.”

“Cas—”

“I barely have a batting average; I’m more of an outfielder, really—”

“Cas,” Dean laughs, soothing the beautiful nerd. He really is beautiful. His earth-soaked mop of hair hangs from his pale forehead like frosted brushwood as rain slides off the underside of the bleachers. His eyes, though frantic and full-blown underneath large shards of evenly framed glass, were worth fictionalizing the way they contended with the driving rain. As for the rest of him… let’s just say Dean tries not to stray too far from the “eyes up here” rule. “I didn’t take you here to give you a quickie.”

Cas’s mouth parts in surprise, two plump pink pieces of flesh separating from— _Dammit._ “Really?”

“Yes, really.” His eyes flicker back to his with a smirk. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re disappointed.”

Cas nearly jumps out of his oversized trench coat as he fights, “No! No, I mean, not like you come off as the kind of guy who’s into that sort of thing with the lip piercings and the underplayed ego, it’s just I never know why really attractive guys invite me to ditch class to hang under the bleachers because it happens, like, never, I mean look at me—”

Without proper consideration, Dean surges forward and seizes his lips. He’s glad he doesn’t deliberate the action too long because he can feel the AC in Cas’s cheeks crank to extra warm.

He pulls away as he remembers he’s trying to prove a point: “Don’t ever say that. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Really?” Cas asks again, as if this just in on the 5 o’clock news.

“Yes, really.”

Cas shifts to hide the blush spreading to his neck. “Is that what you brought me here for?”

“Nah uh, you’re not getting off that easy,” Dean says, shoveling into his coat pocket. Cas shuffles closer to him as Dean purses a thin leafy piece of paper between his fingers.

Cas, as expected, turns into his dad’s ’67 Chevy during a dry heat. “Oh no I can’t, I don’t—I’m not a, you know—”

“Pot head?” Dean finishes, whipping out his lighter as he brings the substance to his lips. “Neither am I.”

“But you’re—”

Dean laughs, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “I’m aware of what I’m doing, Cas.” After a few flicks, the paper emits ember ashes from its darkened head. Smoke billows from Dean’s conical mouth like a cargo train. Cas remains rigid as he asks, “You know what a shotgun is?”

“Of course I know what a shotgun is, Dean, those things can kill you!”

“Only if you let it.”

Cas raises his eyebrows in an almost comical way. “What?”

Dean watches the smoke defuse in the clammy weather with a light chuckle. Cas shivers and huddles closer to him despite being damn near terrified of the bite-size candy cigarette in his hands. “Do you trust me?” he asks. Cas nods. “Then come closer.” Cas does as he’s told. “Now hold out your hands.”

Dean lingers for a moment as the baggy sleeves of Castiel’s trench coat roll up, revealing a thin line of commercial tanned skin. ( _Years of swimming pay off,_ Dean thinks and _I am definitely investing in the wrong extracurricular activities.)_ Cas doesn’t leave him chasing after his warmth, though, just follows Dean’s guidance. A jolt of lightening ripples the sky like electrocution, matching Dean’s current state with Cas’s gentle hands cupped around his jaw.

“Closer,” Dean instructs until there’s but the reflection of Cas in his dilated pupils as Dean tries to focus on the rapidly burning blunt beneath him. “Now breathe in when I breathe out, but not until after I’ve taken another hit, you understand?”

Cas nods timorously. Dean can feel Cas’s conviction in him sitting in his chest heavier than anything a one-ply can fill him with. He bends his head, brings the joint to his mouth, and expertly breathes in the vapor. Then he crowds close to Cas’s mouth, parting his lips just slightly so Cas can get the message—which, of course, he doesn’t. It isn’t until Dean presses their lips together that Cas sucks in a stream of the spidering smoke.

Then Cas’s tongue is licking the roof of his mouth and biting his lip ring and yeah, they could probably die engaging in mouth foreplay, but Cas tastes like Peppermint Altoids and the PB&J he had for lunch and rain is echoing off the plated seats above them and it’s all too good to just stop—

Until Cas is thrown into a coughing fit.

Dean laughs out the rest of the shotgun and taps the charred remains into the dewy grass beneath them. When Cas regains his posture, Dean asks, “Well?”

Cas replies with an involuntary hiccup.

“That good?” he chuckles. Cas nods his head ardently as his glasses defrost. Dean nearly forgets _he_ ’s the expert the way his mouth was manhandled moments ago…

“I’d very much like to do that again.”

The rain is delimited to a light drizzle, the sun flooding through the bleachers like a long forgotten song as it serenades their soaked skin. That’s when Dean snuffs his cigarette in favor of the boy across him. Instead of ravishing Cas’s mouth like Thanksgiving dinner, however, Dean straddles his hips and slings his arms behind Cas’s head, teasing the hair there. Cas stares up at him like the appropriately christened love-struck teenager he is, a smile gracing his already graceful features, before Dean captures his lips.

Cas hums against him, nimble hands finding the small of his back. “Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“I would bat for your team if I knew how to swing.”

Dean laughs against his forehead, a hoarse sound he feels going straight to Cas’s crotch. “We’ll just have to get that batting average up, then.”

“Oh, it’s up,” Cas assures as Dean shuts him up with another kiss.

 

 

 


End file.
